


The Pokemon Whisperer

by lunaerum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Disney Princess-Esque Harry, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Pokemon Follow Harry Around, Post-War, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:49:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaerum/pseuds/lunaerum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is positive he went to sleep in his bed, in his room at 12 Grimmauld Place. But that doesn't explain why or how he'd woken up in a forest, nor does it explain the strange creatures that had gathered around him as he'd slept and hadn't left since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be Careful What You Wish For ...

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so … You can blame Pokemon GO for this. Playing the game really revived my childhood obsession and this is the result. It takes place in the Kanto region (I think …) because of the nostalgia factor (I say as I'm watching the 1990s anime), but let me know what Pokemon you want to show up in a review!
> 
> I was talking with some friends and I think Harry should be able to communicate with snake-pokemon, but what do you guys think?
> 
> Next chapter will have Harry discovering that there are more Pokemon surrounding him and that they'll follow him around even when he tries to reason with them.
> 
> Let me know through a review what sort of Pokemon you want to see following Harry around!

Harry's not really sure how it happens.

He goes to bed in Sirius' old bedroom _alone_ and lonely, because he and Ginny never got back together after the war (and as far Harry knew, she was currently happily dating Luna though it had been awhile since they had last spoken) and lonely because while everyone else had (seemingly) been able to move on with their lives, Harry _hadn't._ Perhaps it was because he'd died and come back or perhaps it was because Harry wouldn't know healthy coping mechanisms if they hit him in the face, but something was keeping him in the past and something wasn't letting him move on from the war. So when others began to move on when Harry couldn't, he began to isolate himself from his friends in the hope that maybe they'd be better off without him bringing the mood down.

Of course, that had lasted for about a week and a half before Hermione had come through his Floo and scolded him for being an idiot while dragging him to the Burrow for dinner (which of course, he'd appreciated and seeing everyone had made him feel better). But that had been months ago, and although Harry was sure to attend the weekly Weasley dinners (lest Hermione _and_ Ron burst through his Floo this time) he rarely went anywhere else.

The Wizarding World had reverted back from dystopian hellscape it'd been during the brief time with Voldemort in power (or the closest thing to being in power) to a bit like what'd it'd been when Harry had first been introduced to it: full of awe and children who were eager to attend Hogwarts, who who were unaware of the war, and saw only the wonder of magic. And even those that had been a part of the Wizarding World or even a part of the war were able to make a place for themselves in the new post-war world, but the problem remained that Harry _couldn't._ Each time he went out in public and saw how people had come together and moved on, Harry was reminded that that there wasn't much room for a traumatized ex-savior, one who hadn't learned how to grieve properly and didn't know how to ask for help. So with every visit to the outside world just made him feel more out of place, he began isolating himself more and more until he felt like he couldn't leave the house anymore.

So he didn't. Not unless it was time for weekly Weasley family dinners and not if he didn't absolutely need to.

As a result, he spent a lot of time in the dreary Black ancestral home, stuck in the past and mulling over the body count of the war. Directly after the war with trials, Death Eaters still amuck, and funerals to plan, there hadn't been time to process all that had happened during the war. All the death, all of the destruction - there hadn't been time to think about all that immediately after the war, so he'd put it off.

And now months and months and months later he finally begins to process everything, but the guilt sometimes makes that hard. It's even worse when he thinks about Sirius because while he can mostly convince himself that he wasn't at fault for the many that had fallen during the Battle at Hogwarts … that's never the case for Sirius. Because it was his fault that Sirius had died - that he'd been in the Department of Mysteries in the first place. There was no one else to blame for Sirius being there, that day (well, except maybe Voldemort, but Harry should've _known_ better).

And the thought hurt. When Harry's alone in his house, he sometimes wishes that the Resurrection Stone had offered him more closure when it'd called upon Sirius' shade … and last night was no different.

He had a nightly routine, Harry did - brushing his teeth, lying in bed for a bit, sometimes hours at a time. Sometimes he read, sometimes he couldn't muster up the motivation to do so. Last night was one of those nights. It'd felt like something heavy had settled onto his chest and he'd felt guilt. From his inability to do normal, everyday things like spend time with his friends to his part in Sirius' death, the guilty about almost every aspect of his life it'd been nearly overwhelming.. He wished - as he often did - that he'd gotten closure, that he hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries, that he could see Sirius one last time. After a while, the thoughts had gotten to be terribly miserable and to shut them off, he'd reached into his bedside table and pulled out a Dreamless Sleep potion. When he'd downed that, sleep had come fast and he'd welcomed the oblivion - as it was much better than mulling in guilt and self-hatred.

And that was all well and fine, but none of that explained why, if he'd fallen asleep in 12 Grimmauld Place, he hadn't _woken up there_.

The Dreamless Sleep potion always left his system in bits and pieces if he drank the full dose, so when he wakes the morning after taking it - he doesn't notice right away where he is. He's still somewhat drifting in that peaceful place between dreaming and wakefulness and it takes him a few more moments to realize that - the smells and sounds that surround him are nothing like what would occur in his house … and more importantly he's not in his bed.

Before he opens his eyes, he tries to take stock of his surroundings, just in case someone was monitoring him to see when he would wake. He's … probably outside, given that he's lying down on the ground. His left hand grazes some form of water as it lays limp at his side and for as long as Harry's been awake and aware, there's been something brushes up against said hand, most likely a fish of some sort though Harry, of course, can't be sure given that his eyes are still closed. The ground that he's been relocated to is damp and the grass beneath him is itchy and uncomfortable against his neck and the side of his face.

Physically, he's fine. He hasn't been injured and he's not in any pain, despite the fact that he's been laying on the ground for Merlin knows how long. Emotionally …

Harry sort of regrets not taking a double-dose of Dreamless Sleep. It's dangerous to do so, but living life is a bit easier when he's unconscious. There's not guilt, there's no anxiety or grief … no heavy weight that settles onto his chest and makes it hard to breathe …

And speaking of that familiar heavy weight on his chest - it's still there. Which is both strange and comforting, because while it usually takes awhile for Harry's negative emotions to build up to the point where it's feels like a physical pain, the thought that he's an emotional mess no matter where he is not as terrible as it seems considering how used to it Harry is.

Not feeling anyone watching him and unwilling to act like he's sleeping for any longer, Harry slowly opens his eyes and then begins to sit up when no one stops him from doing so.

Which … strangely causes that heavy weight on his chest to shift downwards, causing him to pause in the middle of sitting up.

In the awkward (and slightly painful) halfway point between sitting and reclining (with a wet hand from where he'd pulled it out of the water to assist him as he sat up) and still a bit groggy from taking the Dreamless Sleep potion last night, it takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that perhaps the heavy weight that had settled onto his chest while he slept isn't quite as imaginary as he'd assumed.

And it's that thought that has him shoving off the lingering grogginess and with panic mounting, wondering if the people responsible for his kidnapping had placed something onto his chest as he slept, that he glances downwards, where the weight on his chest has relocated to his stomach.

But it's not the nefarious magical contraption that Harry had expected. Nor is it, Harry suspects, nefarious at all. Instead it's a tiny brown fox-looking creature with a tuft of white hair surrounding the creature's neck that looks both disgruntled at being woken, and adorable all the same.

It's unlike any creature Harry's seen, somewhat fox-like but still very different, what with it's very long ears, but considering that Harry's seen spiders bigger the average adult male, it's not the strangest thing he's ever seen.

And if Moody were here, he'd surely be screaming about _constant vigilance_ and reprimanding Harry for letting his guard down in an unknown location, but Harry thinks that even _Moody_ would be hard-pressed to be angry when faced with the little creature nuzzling into his stomach, especially when it's yawn sounded more like a tiny squeak.

At the sound, Harry's heart sort of melts and he resolves to worry about how he'd gotten into this forest later - or at least until the animal woke up, as in seconds after its yawn, it had fallen back asleep on his stomach and Harry (soft-hearted idiot that he was) was loathe to wake it.

So instead of getting up to explore the forest he'd woken up in, he simply sits all the way up watching as the creature settles comfortably onto his lap, nose twitching. And it's then, sitting up, that he notices he and the animal on his lap aren't alone.

"Huh," Harry blinks at the sight of another brown fox creature to his left (though this one has _multiple_ tails, which again, not the strangest thing he's ever seen, but pretty strange nonetheless) and a black and orange striped dog-looking creature lying near his feet. "Wasn't … really expecting _that._ "

And then he sighs, because really. Harry should've known that his life would continue to surprise him, even after the war.

At least _this_ time, said surprise wasn't deadly.

Or Voldemort-shaped.

(Hopefully.)


	2. Duck, duck ... fox?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic/chapter is of course dedicated to my babe, nekonekonomi over on tumblr who requested that I update this fic, like a month ago. Sorry for the wait, honey! Hope you like it! :3c
> 
> Wow! An update almost a year later ... sorry everyone! If you want an explanation for my long, long, long hiatus, head over to my tumblr (lunaerum, same as my username here) for the incoming explanation post.
> 
> I'm thinking maybe some of the pokemon that follow Harry around become his familiars and he can communicate with them telepathically ... what do you guys think?
> 
> Also, special shout-out to yokishko, one of my lovely reviewers who left wonderful long comments on nearly all of my fics that I thought I replied to but somehow didn't ...? Thank you, though - I really appreciated them! And I appreciate all of my reviewers!

Harry lays back down.

It was much too early to be dealing with this nonsense. Perhaps if he closed his eyes, he'd wake up in his bed?

Eh.

Worth a shot.

_Okay Harry,_ he thinks as he slowly closes his eyes,  _when you wake up you'll be in your room again. Your ceiling will be white. You will be cold and you will be alone._

He opens his eyes.

The obscenely clear blue sky, sun shining down upon him, unhindered by clouds, greets him. Almost mechanically, Harry pinches the thin, sensitive skin at the crook of his elbow.

It hurts.

A lot.

So he's not dreaming. That's great. That means, of course, that his first thought of someone kidnapping him was right.

But who? And  _why_?

He doesn't quite get the time to ponder those questions, as in the seconds after he poses them to himself, he hears a strange sort of quacking noise before something flops onto his face.

Harry closes his eyes (not that it does much good - can't see much anyway with something on his face) and counts to ten  _very slowly_  in his head. When he reaches that magic number, he opens his eyes, reaches up, and gently grabs whatever it is that had stumbled upon his face.

He blinks.

In his arms, sat on his chest … is a duck. A very rotund, very yellow duck. Who looks to be very confused with the way it was clutching its head. Despite himself, Harry smiles at the creature.

"Psssssyduck?" It croaks rather loudly, startling all the sleeping creatures laid on and around Harry awake. He takes that as a loud sound of indignation at being held, so, like a good wizard, he sets the duck-creature down.

After doing so, Harry props himself up just in time to see the fox-creature, the one with the white tuft on its chest, yawn once more.

His heart very nearly explodes.

He reaches forward to pet the creature, but stops at the last second, not knowing for sure if this creature or the other three were friendly. If Moody could see him now - the old man would have probably had an apoplectic fit at the thought of Harry waking up in a strange place, surrounded by strange creatures, and not only choosing to stay where he'd woken up, but even holding one of said strange creatures.

Harry chuckles, a bit of self-depreciation coloring the sound, before sighing. Merlin. What a day. He certainly hadn't expected this when he'd gone to sleep last night. Feeling a migraine coming on, Harry rubs at his forehead and then runs a haphazard hand through his hair - a bad-habit that makes his hair looks even messier than it normally did.

And he tries to lower his arm once more, completely at a loss for what to do  _now_ , but he finds at last minute that he can't.

Because there's something in the way.

"I thought you wanted to be let go?" Harry asks of the duck creature that was all but pressing its head into his side.

"Pssssssssyduck," it tells him, which to be perfectly honest, isn't very helpful. It's sounds a bit more mournful than the last round of quacking and Harry can't help but to pat the creatures head to comfort it.

Again, Harry can't help but to smile at the creature. It's not cute in the way the other creatures were, but it had it's charm. So focused on the duck-creature begging to be petted, Harry doesn't notice the two fox-like creature perk up at the movement.

(The dog-creature, however, doesn't move from its coveted spot upon Harry's legs, where it had relocated after the duck-creature had startled it and its companions awake.)

And so focused on the duck-creature and it's need for affection, Harry doesn't notice when the two fox-creatures dart closer to his unoccupied hand laid flat against the ground for balance. In fact, he doesn't notice them until he feels two cold noses nudge against his arm and embarrassingly, nearly scares the magic out of him.

Though initially started beyond belief, when he turns to see just what had touched his hand and sees two equally adorable inquisitive head tilts, before they go back to nudging his hand. A bit confused, but knowing they they must want his hand for something, Harry sits up fully so he doesn't have to depend on his free arm for balance and tentatively raises it …

Only for the two creatures to rub their backs on the palm of his hand like fox-shaped cats. Harry almost  _giggles_  at the sight, before he remembers himself and instead clears his throat.

"You are all very cute," he says to the creatures. "I don't suppose you all kidnapped me and are planning my gruesome murder, are you?"

There is no reply, at least not in English, but the fox-creatures and the duck-creatures remain as they were, begging for pets, while the dog-creature snuffles further into the warmth his legs must provide. Harry, however, takes this as a no and sighs. Unfortunately, this means that he does have to find the person or  _people_  who kidnapped him, which also means that he must leave the creatures to do so.

It was such a shame though. All four of them were so clever (and  _cute_ ), surely it wouldn't be so bad to take them with him…

But no - surely creatures as smart as these had a home somewhere, a master someplace. Although Harry had never seen creatures like these before, it wasn't as if he knew every single magical creature that existed throughout the entire world. They could very well be native animals to the strange place that Harry had been whisked away to.

While absentmindedly petting the creatures at his side, Harry mules over the idea that perhaps these creatures were the familiars of those that had kidnapped him, though he just as quickly dismisses that thought. Familiars reflected their owners will and personality. The creatures that surrounded him now were too kind and affectionate to belong to those that had any malicious intentions.

Sadly, that meant that he had to leave them behind. They weren't his - and he had no right to take them away from their true owners.

Harry sighs once more.

Saying goodbye to these creatures would likely be one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. Which, of course, was an exaggeration, but - they really were lethally adorable.

But Harry was stubborn and he  _really_  shouldn't have stayed as long as he had. As he pets the creature at his side the last few times, he begins to put together a plan.

First, he had to gently remove the dog-creature from his legs. That, of course, was easier said than done. The two fox-creatures had whined and pressed their heads against his side and the duck-creature had croaked incorrigibly after Harry had moved his hands to lift the dog-creature from atop his legs. The dog creature had grumbled and growled through the entire procedure, but rather than scaring him, as Marge's dogs once had, this had simply sounded … cute.

With the dog creature on the ground and his legs free to move once more, the second and last step of his plan was to get up and move. Which left the creatures whining, croaking, and grumbling on the damp forest floor.

For a simple plan, it had worked quite well. That is, until, he had gotten up and started walking and the four creatures had begun to stumble after him.

It was quite a cute sight. However …

"You aren't my familiars," he reminds them, as gently as possible, but loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of whining and croaking and grumbling. "And I'm not your master. Why don't you go find them, wherever they are. I'm sure your masters are worried."

At his words, the creatures all tilt their head to the side and continue to stumble after him.

Harry sighs once more.

It was going to be a  _long_  day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have Harry discovering more Pokemon, one of which is a chubby Pikachu and the other is a ... talking blueberry?!

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is lunaerum, feel free to give me a follow if you'd like!
> 
> Please R&R I'd love to know what you thought of this crossover!


End file.
